First Timers
by lightamatchtoleavemebe
Summary: After having a minor disagreement, James proves to Kendall that he loves him by recounting all of the major 'firsts' in their relationship.


This has been an idea in the making, but I was having trouble making it 'flow'. So praise the lord for me finishing the damn thing and it being over 1300 words! Hallelujah! But in all seriousness, I need to stop writing Kames. Because I hate it with a burning passion. Just kidding! I actually really like it and it may just be my otp. Shhhhh, though.

This was written for Taylor aka zombiekillah aka my soul mate :'3 I hope you like the final product, sweetie pieee!

And the title is from Tyga's song of the same name. Evan Taubenfeld just makes the song. Anywayyyys.

Enjoy, or something. Whatever floats your boat, right? But I would like it if you did enjoy it.

* * *

"What do you think your future will be like?"

I'm laying on my back in this foreign bed, in some country I don't even remember the name of. I'm worried about something that is plenty of years from now and he's just laying here, taking it a day at a time.

How does he do it?

"I actually don't know," he says, folding his arms behind his head. I look over at him, and our eyes meet, my stomach filling with those butterflies again.

They're pretty frequent now.

"I think I'll have a wife, and two kids. And the perfect yellow house with the perfect picket fence. And a little dog."

He rolls his eyes at me as I punch him in the shoulder. "I'm being serious, though."

His mouth parts a little and I glare at him. "Do not say you are being serious too, James, or elseI will hit you even harder this time." I'm growling and holding up a fist, but I don't care. He flashes that cocky grin and shrugs. "I see myself still touring, whether it be with a band or by myself. That's where I want to be. Maybe I'll become an actor. I just want to have fun."

"Oh," I mutter, looking at the ceiling.

"Oh my god, Kendall. Don't be mad." He rolls over onto his side to look at me.

"Why would I be mad?" A sour tone to my voice.

I'm still stuck here, in this uncomfortable bed in a country whose language I do not know how to speak, let alone understand. I'm laying in a bed with the man I love and he just basically admitted to me that I'm not in his future. This would be going so much better if I was dead.

"Oh, baby," he says, curling a hand through my hair. "You know as well as I do that is not what I meant."

I sigh. "How do I know for sure?"

"You could trust me."

I scoff. "Yeah, how could _that_ backfire?"

He begins to smooth my hair down. "Just breathe for a moment. Relax. Let me talk."

"Why should I?"

I know I'm acting like a little brat. But I'm kind of mad.

"Please?"

I groan. "Fine."

"Close your eyes."

I do as I am told.

"I remember the first time we kissed. The feeling I was experiencing was one I would remember each time we kissed afterward. How soft your lips were, the pressure you used, when your tongue pressed through my closed lips. It all drove me crazy. Do you remember?"

I feel myself nod and he continues.

"It was absolutely fucking perfect."

There's shifting in the bed and soon I feel his lips on mine, my heart beginning to beat insanely fast. It's a short, almost chaste kiss, but it still makes me smile a little.

Only a little. Just a tad.

"I remember the first time we held hands too. Surprisingly, it was after we kissed. You said my hand was too freaking cold. I told you I thought you were pretty dang hot. And you blushed. Our fingers fit together perfectly, almost as if we were two puzzle pieces. How cliche is that, though? After I let go, you also complained about how rough my hands were. That's why I started using lotion religiously. Do you remember?"

His fingers slip through mine and I laugh, not letting my eyes open. "I do remember," I whisper.

"Good."

I feel him squeeze and he lets go, placing his hand on the comforter where it was. With his other hand, the one still in my hair, he begins to curl a couple strands around his finger.

"What else do you remember?"

"Oh, right." He's chuckling. "I forgot."

"It's fine."

He giggles and starts to reminisce again.

"I remember the first time we," He coughs. "the first time we were sexual."

His voice lowers and a familiar huskiness fills the room.

"You were actually the one to suggest this. We were going strong for a good five months when you brought it up. It was really cute, you stuttering and saying that if 'it was too soon, I could just forget that you asked', but I agreed. We were both really awkward with the way we came around to doing it. I remember we were watching a movie, I don't remember what it was, but it wasn't very good. Your hand made it under my blanket and I felt you shaking as you messed with the elastic band of my sweatpants."

I burn with embarrassment. "Come on, I was only sixteen and a sophomore. Just give me a break."

He clears his throat.

"Oh, I know. You practically jumped when you noticed I wasn't wearing underwear. Which, when thinking about it, wasn't very sanitary. Your face was flushed when you curled your hand around me. You looked up at me for reassurance, but I just laughed at you. You then figured it out to do what you did to yourself, and that was just fine and dandy with me. You pumped and you stroked, even teasing me a little. The look on your face when I came was priceless. You have to remember that!"

I smirk at the memory. "I so do. It sucked."

His hand that was once on top of the comforter is now crawling in the sheets. "Well," he sighs. "Here's what you missed that day."

His hand slides inside my boxers and I squirm at the sensation. He strokes me from base to tip, rubbing circles along the head. And it feels so, so good.

How could I give this up?

I'm moaning his name as I come and he must be enjoying this, too.

He must be planning to ruin me, because I died multiple times just by hearing him lick and suck the come off of his hand.

Very porn actor-ish. I have to give him that.

* * *

"Okay, Kendall. Open your eyes now."

"Can I?"

"Yes."

I open them and he's staring at me. "Oh, James," I quietly say, sitting up and wrapping my arms around his waist and breathing his scent in. "I am so so sorry."

A soft sigh floats out of his mouth. "You're in my future, you know that now, don't you?"

"Obviously," I mutter, curling my fingers around his.

"I love you, Kendall. Just so you know. And everything we've been through, too." "I know. But James?"

He chuckles. "Yes?"

"Can I repay you?"

His eyes bulge out a little and he shrugs, trying to play it cool. "If you want, I guess. Sure, why not?"

By the time I find the lube (that was hiding at the foot of the bed), there's a knock on the door.

"Hello?" I get up and hurry to the door. When I open it, Carlos and Logan are standing there, both red-faced and flustered.

"Yeah, um. We didn't want to um, disturb, uh. You guys. Um. We have to uh, be on the air in like. Ten minutes. So we have to uh. Go. Uh. Our translator is waiting." Logan stumbles over his words and coughs, folding his arms when he finished.

"Yeah," Carlos adds. "It was icky!"

* * *

Later that night, James and I are back in our hotel room. We're cuddling and it's really nice, but something is bothering me.

"But hey, James? If we're playing stereotypical gender roles, you are the right candidate to be the wife."

His face warms from ear to ear and he groans. "Fine."

I roll my eyes, pressing my lips to his smooth cheek. "I love you, and thank you for not getting mad at me for my behavior earlier."

"I love you too, idiot."

I slug him in the gut and start getting up. I decide against it.

I instead, figure James is in for the long run and repay him right there and then.

* * *

Thank you for reading, guys. I appreciate every little thing you do for me and I hope you guys will continue to enjoy my writing. 3


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